


The Princess and the Paladin

by orphan_account



Category: South Park
Genre: M/M, Roleplay, Short, Stick of Truth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-12
Updated: 2013-02-12
Packaged: 2017-11-29 00:52:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/680818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Don't ask why Kenny wanted to be a chick, it's just how he seems to be rolling right now.”</i>
</p><p>Kenny and Butters take role-playing to chivalrous extremes. Inspired by Stick of Truth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Princess and the Paladin

**Author's Note:**

> SO. I desperately need to play the Stick of Truth. This was more fun to write when I flipped the pronouns and used their classes instead of names. I guess I just had the inclination to leave their sex play in that realm of fantasy, with some rule-breaking just for giggles. Don’t worry; still plenty of dicks to go around.

“All Hail the Grand Wizard!” proclaimed the Paladin, kneeling into the dirt, his sight obscured by a large pair of pointed, reptilian boots. 

The Grand Wizard had many accessories in his wardrobe, and each contributed to his delusions of power. His giant, pointy hat followed the tropes of many sorcerers of past. His thick, terry cloth robes are speckled with BBQ sauce and KFC gravy. On his belt hung globes of noxious, corked potions, presumably Mountain Dew. And of course, he wielded the unassuming staff of immeasurable powers and intrigue. But the greatest accessory at his disposal, to the Paladin’s trained eye, was her highness, the Princess. 

With her spectacular restorative abilities as a medic, she was a blessing to any soldier in grave need of healing. Her wit as sharp as the point of her arrows, and her patience stretched the distance of her bow’s unlimited range. Her place was at the foot of the Grand Wizard’s throne, a prize of the great war, an ally too valuable to be let out of sight. And in the Paladin’s mind she was a vision of prime interest and striking beauty. She was difficult to ignore in her bright clementine frock, the trim made of intertwined lace and gold filigree that made the Paladin’s fingers itch with wanting. His report to his superior was tedious and inflated with medieval colloquialisms, but he only managed to stutter when he raised his eyes to meet the bored, bright orbs of the Grand Wizard’s royal ward. The Paladin simpered in her silent gaze as the Grand Wizard railed on about the absconded enemies of his kingdom. He continued to shout, his voice echoing in the grand foyer of the castle, his anger lorded over to the subjects of his court, who trembled as he rattled off orders. 

The Paladin stayed kneeled on the muddy floor, a blind audience to the tirade behind him. He had not been dismissed by his master. 

The Princess was bound to the Wizard as well, but all her freedoms reflected in her attitude. She turned her skirts around her, her eyes smiling as the Paladin watched the gauzes flow about her legs. She wound her finger around the ends of her braids, twisting them around the lengths of her precious digits as if it were the Paladin’s own heart strings she played. 

“Your majesty, I kneel before you struck down by an arrow launched by Cupid’s whims,” he proclaimed in a heated whisper, taking his hand off the hilt of his weapon and placing it over the cold metal that shielded his heart. He only lost his balance a little on the soft earth.

“You kneel at the whim of a tyrant and nothing else, mighty Paladin,” she taunted, pulling at her braids, so that her headdress nudged a little to one side, and her veil unsheathed a sweet smirk unrivaled by any concoction of toxic bubbles and aspartame. 

“Well, if you say so, milady,” confessed the Paladin, patting his armor. “But this wound belongs to you and no other in this vast kingdom.” 

“Fie, fie. Then I am at fault for leaving such a hurt unsalved,” she teased. The Princess dragged him up by his forearm, giggling as he tripped over his boots. “Away we must, to my chambers of healing.” 

“Uh...As you wish,” he conceded. The Paladin was hesitant to leave the presence of the powerful warlock, but the Princess's hand was so soft, so insistent, that their palms met and intertwined. With her other hand, the Princess hiked her skirts in a fist, and the Paladin was given a lascivious view of her well beaten, orange Chuck Taylors with their stained shoelaces, and white fishnets sheathing her legs to the middle of her thighs. Overcome with anticipation, he buried the desire to reach out to her and bend her lithe body over the throne in view of the entire court. 

“Come at once! The Wizard can only bend his gaze so far, with that fat neck of his.” 

The healing chambers were empty, the only aggrieved bodies being their own. Once the curtains were drawn around a well-worn settee in the Princess’s signature hue, her arms encircled the Paladin’s neck and she brought her open mouth to his. Her tongue burned with the reviving fires of a phoenix, sending his nerves aflight and his blood boiling with need. But they stayed within an arms length of each other, suckling at each others lips, enjoying the slick, twisting warmth of only their wet mouths. 

“Your methods taste pure, Princess,” the Paladin murmured under his breath, touching his lips to her chin and inhaling her quickened breath.

“In sooth, they are not so pristine,” she admitted, her anxious hands pulling at the clasps of his cape, letting it fall to the floor in a heap. “Lest you forget your unsavory duties to my master.” 

“But --” The Paladin began to object as her noble hands worked over his chest, expertly unhinging his breastplate. “You are no one’s slave, Princess. You are blighted by the Wizard’s wayward feudalism, as are all of us. But soon, there will be a world where the meek shall not have to serve the ma-malevolent.” He stuttered as her hands pulled away his gauntlets and unwrinkled his sleeves. Then she began to yank at the shirt tails tucked into his britches. 

“You’re dreams are flummoxed with lustful desires-- Have I caused you greater ill? You are unmade by the debt of a kiss,” boasted the Princess, curling herself about his disciplined frame with limber arms and pressing knees. 

The Paladin wore an expression of grave severity, jostled by her wringing the shirt off of his body. “The touch of a Princess is a vital expense. I will pay at any cost, your highness, for the invigoration.” 

“Oh really?” Her hands danced around the waist of his pants, tickling his hipbones. “And what will you give me for this kiss that has healed you so?” 

At once, the Paladin grasped the Princess’s waist and heaved her onto the lounge, pushing himself between her spread legs and raking her satin skirts over her thighs. He tenderly stroked up her long legs, careful not to catch his nails on her thigh-high stockings, and relished the tickle of body hair on his fingers. “A lapping tongue, eager teeth, and my heady blade.” He breathed into her ear. 

He dipped his head and smothered her collarbone with insistent kisses, knocking her headdress askew. The Princess lost her composure in a snorting chuckle, her hands interlocked behind his neck to arch herself towards him. “That was good,” she laughed, marveling at his prose and dragging the wig and veil off her head to discard on the floor, more of a nuisance than a necessary component in their pressing acts of passion. 

The Paladin smiled and leaned back, preparing to hike the skirts over his head. “T-thanks. I’ve been practicing.” Her eyes glowed with unspoken praise, and then the Paladin disappeared into the tent of orange. Under her dress he found her panties and more-- sweet and musky with arousal, ready to be consumed. Cradling her thighs, he dove deeper into the cavern of her nether regions. The Paladin unsheathed her glistening member gently, running his hands in circles over the pale, ripened skin of her thighs. He stroked the satin, uncircumcised skin of her dick, salivating with an insane hunger for her regal juices. 

“This world of which you speak, with such avowed devotion...” she panted above him, her legs shivering, but her tone steady and true. “Take me there, Paladin.” 

“Y-yes, your highness...” came the Paladin’s muffled reply. 

Her permission granted, he covered his teeth with well-soaked, candied lips and dropped his mouth onto the Princess’s cock. With one slow, gratuitous suck the Paladin coaxed the throbbing member into fuller composure. He followed his hollowed cheeks and blushing lips with the curl of a fist, jacking her skin up and down as reached the head, and teased the pink tip with a playful tongue. Then down he went again, filling his cheeks with the length of her cherry dick. 

The Princess moaned with anguish and abandon, her arms thrashing about over her head in search of something to grasp. When she finally had a firm grip on the settee, she thrust her hips forward into the expectant and wanting mouth underneath her frock. The Paladin complied to her sudden force and swallowed her to the hilt, humming with satisfaction in the bouquet of curly blonde hair. His hands moved underneath her ass to levy her to his eager gullet, and she fucked his mouth unsteadily while she gasped and cried out in her pleasure, the aging couch rocking with each thrust. It was as if they were far removed from the fortress walls, strangled by the winds of far off fantasies, with no other notion than to appease the other’s touch. 

The Princess lost her grip on the cushions, which abbreviated their antics for a moment, but gave the Paladin plenty of time to fling her skirts out of the way and pull his swollen lance from the sheath of his linens. He kneeled in the wrinkled mess of orange, swinging her fishnet-clad legs over his shoulders. The result was a nauseatingly ardent angled view of his lady love, flushed red and sweating, her face twisted by the fervid charms and tremors of arousal. His thumb stroked down into her velvet crevices and pushed into the taut ring of her ass, while she volleyed herself with wet palms, jerking her cock up and down, the sweat from her brow trickling down her neck and into her bodice. The Paladin took a deep breath, and levied the weight of his dick against the stretching gap, his thumb teasing out the muscles while he pushed into her around its probing presence. As he shifted into her stiffening body, the Princess gave a wanton howl, her eyes rolling back into her head as her insides spread and stretched to welcome his manly girth. 

The rush of succulent pressure intoxicated the panting Paladin, but he couldn’t neglect the needs of his Princess, mounting her backside fast and hard so that she squealed in tandem with his rugged pace. She loved it, she lived for it, careening into his thrusting movement with ferocious determination, tears pricking her eyelids, only to be kissed away moments later. His hand wrapped around her throat and squeezed with tentative fingers, riding her body like an instrument propulsed by her breathless, whining appeals for more: “Yes, yes-- finish me, fuck me--yes, yes!” Until her dick spilled her cum all over her hands and the pillow of chiffon on her stomach, and her jaw dropped with such satisfaction that her faithful Paladin couldn’t help but force his mouth over her lips to swallow her filthy groans. The slick trap of tongues and thrusts then became too much for his orchestrated countenance, for his hips snapped against her in a final undulating grind, then his orgasm churned out of him like butter, until he pressed in, slow and shuddering, and dragged himself out of her sheath of hot skin. He collapsed over her tingling body, his hands massaging her well-battered thighs and stroking up her stomach. Their legs tangled, and the Princess maneuvered her slackened grip around his neck waist to drag him to her bosom. Their heaving chests filled the heated silence. The Paladin nuzzled his head into the Princess’s rumpled bodice, murmuring sweet, climactic laments, and her fingers curled into the damp locks of his scalp, gently stroking.

Suddenly, a clamor burst from afar. The Paladin raised his chin inquiringly, but the curtains were drawn with a violent clatter and a cry of disgust.

“Goddamit, Kenny! Stop running off with my fucking Paladin!” the Grand Wizard threw his arm over his eyes, spitting and hissing like a kicked cat. The Paladin yelped, leapt from his warm nest on the Princess’s figure, and hiked his britches over his ass.

“Anon, Nurse,” the Princess grumbled, tossing her skirts modestly over her lap, watching the Paladin fumble for his shirt and cape. She folded her arms over the arm of the couch and dropped her chin into their cushion, snapping, “Why don’t you fuck right off?” 

The Wizard seethed. “Shut up, you ragged fiends. You’re dipping your balls into the wrong royal treasury, Butters. It’s gonna cost ya, shacking up with a kingdomless hag.” 

“That’s noble of you, Grand Wizard, but I gave all I had to her Highness seconds before you came in-” 

“NO! No details, thank you! Take these!” the Grand Wizard hollered, flinging a bundle of ribboned messages at his flinching servant. “Now get the hell out of my sight!” 

“You.” The Grand Wizard rounded on the Princess where she was stretched out over the settee in languid passivity. “If you can’t keep your skirts down in my court, I’m leaving your gay ass in the Tower of Chastity where Sir Swings-His-Lance-A-Lot can’t distract you.” 

“Shut your surly, flap-dragon, or the Wiz isn’t getting any more alchemized hemorrhoid cream for his crispy asshole.” The Princess threatened, rolling her eyes and catching the besmirching grin of her blushing Paladin as he juggled his armor into his arms and tripped through the doorway out of sight. An arrant fool for her touch, he would fulfill his mission dutifully to return with haste, and bring back with him the arduous language of a chivalrous knight’s love. 

“You are a such royal pain in my balls, Kenny.”

“Now, High Wizmaster, is that the _proper_ way to speak to a Princess?”


End file.
